


The Moonlight's Secrets

by alyxpoe



Series: Always and Forever [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Fluff, Gen, John's POV, M/M, Moonlight, Post-Reichenbach, Romance, first-person pov, men kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:15:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyxpoe/pseuds/alyxpoe





	The Moonlight's Secrets

I open the door and I am welcomed by the soft darkness just before midnight. A slight dampness clings to the air and I can smell shampoo. I thrust my jacket at the hook on the back of the door, not caring whether it remains or slumps to the floor. It makes no difference to me. I consider the tea pot for a moment. No. There is only one thing that matters tonight.

In the bathroom, the clean scents are even stronger. There is still a slight curtain of dampness clinging to the mirror; somehow that brings a smile to my lips. It has not been easy, this whole thing, but I will get through it…strike that, _we_ will make it through and come out stronger than ever before on the other side of it all. I wash my hands and dry them on the last clean towel in the place. I study the towels tossed on the floor. For a second, I consider tidying up. No. Those towels will still be there when the sun rises, right now, they are unimportant.

I have walked alone these many months, yet I have never been completely alone. Once your heart allows someone else to share it, it never stops beating for two. My rage has slowly diffused and split into sorrow and something else I have yet to hang a label on. It is a foolish waste of time, this constantly pigeon-holing these emotions. I am no stranger to this one; it is too precious yet to name: still new, still fresh, an emotion still learning to stand on its own two feet like a tiny foal born early in the season. Each slight blast of frigid air threatens to push it back to the cold, hard ground—yet it stands, stronger for each icy touch.

The bedroom door is open just a crack, enough for me to see the moonlight streaming through the parted drapes. It fills the air with the touch of a goddess long ago so named. The sun’s reflected light is soft, caressing the sapphire duvet and white satin sheets, making them glow. As my eyes wander about the room, my gaze stops fully on the sight of damp raven curls arranged in wild array against the bright, moonlit glowing pillow case. I inhale sharply, my breath catching in my throat as it always does at these moments. Now that I feel as if I no longer have to hide them, that is. Peaceful expression against pale features smoothed out by the moonlight, eyes framed by long ebony lashes closed, relaxed, calm. It soothes my aching heart.  

“Why that reaction?” His amazing voice that I would recognize anywhere a deep rumble in a lightly muscled bare chest still flushed slightly from the spray of the shower. There are still times when I cannot force myself to speak. I do not answer; instead, I continue to study the long, lean lines of what could be ancient marble filling up the space that was empty for so long. The light streaming through the window will not last, I want to remember this: a photograph of time frozen in place, never to be altered by the harsh realities of simply living. All the words I cannot say: _Don't you understand? People like me don't usually get to share in people like you...you, though, you seem so unaware of all that you_ really _are._

Lean muscled limbs made warm and pliant by hot water. There are still some drops of water across a smooth chest, clinging to the hollow where collar bones meet a pale marble column of throat. _Beautiful_ does not begin to express what my eyes take in at that moment. I want to be the moonlight. I could stand here all night or forever trying to remember how to breathe. Violinist’s fingers smooth across the duvet, pale skin catching the remaining tendrils of the moonlight and reflecting it back to me as opals contain a prism of fire; in my mind at least. He does not see himself the way I do.

Only when those eyes open, half in the darkness and half in the light, is the spell partially broken. I can speak now, though I am still unable to move, anchored in place by the sight in front of me. My lungs empty on a long exhale. “I wish you could see yourself.” I am going to drown in sparkling emeralds, each facet gleaming in the growing darkness. There is now a quirk to that mouth that can be so full of knives or taste of caramel so sweet in the rain. Those blades of honesty that we all fight against; some still do. I stopped fighting long before what I believed was the end. Most people cannot face their own demons when seeing their reflections in the wide, sharp, silver blades. Like the blade Lady Justice carries at her side.

I have been released, I can move again. Later, I will possess no memory of shedding my clothes; shedding my outer skin, the one I present to the world because they do not bother to look beyond it. Not the way _he_ does. The next thing I remember is being pulled in close and the warmth of those lips pressed against mine, then my temple, then my neck. Strong hands with long fingers stroking against my spine. Fireworks explode in my mind: colorful in shades of jade, azure, gold and silver. It is amazing how my perfect marble companion is so warm; the opposite of poor Pygmalion until the goddess felt for him and gave him his love after so long…

Is this love, then? Here in the dying moonlight, my arms full of perfection. A perfection I thought I had lost. I will not waste this second chance. All the gods on Mount Olympus planned this out completely, I believe. Vanquish the evil, come home victorious: just for me. As the night slips away from us, I decide that I need to tell you how I feel. I want you to know.

Every time I pull back I find myself diving back into his mouth. I can feel a smile on those lips as they are gentle against my own. My hand sinks into mad curls at the nape of his neck; silk against my fingers. The body underneath me is as warm as the satin sheets are cool. This will go no further, I can feel his exhaustion as well as my own. He is fully aware, his body is pliant where I am pressing it into the mattress, neither of us have the energy for more. This will be enough, I think. “I love you.” I whisper in between kisses. How can it be so easy for those words to spill from my heart to my lips?

The living sculpture beneath me goes still. As still as I was in the doorway staring down at this marvelous creature who has given so much. I push myself up on my arms and watch those eyelids flutter, beautiful eye lashes whisper against skin that I kiss with tentative lips. I do not need to hear the words; the fear of rejection is palpable in the room now, not between us, no, but _out there_ , floating about us on the darkness left by the waning of the moon. I will hold you all night if necessary; I just need you to believe my words. I caress your ribcage, your hands never still against my lower back; yet, there is a new tension there. For a moment I can only wonder what I have just done.

Then you sigh. Those peridot orbs flashing with life; an inner flame that I will not allow to be extinguished like the light of the moon. Not this not; not ever. Your hand on the back of my head, pulling me in closer for another kiss; when we separate you are watching me with the same expression I know I wore just a while ago. The darkness at my back is as comfortable as your hands where they rest on my body. You do not have to return my words, just accept them. Let me hold you.

My face near your neck, your lips near my ear; there is no tension in you. Your voice; damn that voice; right into my ear you whisper those three words back to me: the moon reflecting the brightness of the sun, filtering it for mere mortals to see without blinding them. I hold you close to me so that if need be we can share one heart and one mind. It is enough. I will never ask for how long because it has already lasted through its share of hardship, everything has come full circle.

We move so that we are side by side, my hand gently touching your face. As I slip into the arms of slumber I hear another whisper in the tones that I will never be able to forget. Your arms pull me closer, I know you will never let go, not now, not ever. I do not need you to say it. I can feel it. I finally succumb to the weariness of the days before and I may have imagined it, though in my memories of this moment I will hear your voice say “Always” for the rest of my life.


End file.
